


Synonym for Vast

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's recent Twitter antics leave Harry feeling slightly distant and jealous, but it doesn't take long for Niall to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synonym for Vast

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on here so I'm not quite sure how all of this works. I hurriedly wrote this from 2 AM to 6 AM this morning so any mistakes are my own!
> 
> A big thank you to the lovely [ suddenwishes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/suddenwishes) for encouraging me to write this when I was still unsure.
> 
> Initially inspired by [ this](http://doesnarryknow.tumblr.com/post/93822932950/i-need-a-fanfic-in-which-harry-is-jealous-and-mad) post.
> 
>  

Harry loves Liam, of course he does, but right now he wants to slam him into the wall and _not in the way you’re thinking_ —no, he’ll leave that for Niall when he’s less upset with the entire situation at hand.

Niall is _his_ —maybe not properly and maybe not to Niall’s knowledge, but he’s his and Harry can’t have anyone else barging in and destroying that. Deep down Harry knows he has nothing to worry about where Liam is concerned; he has Sophia and he’s happier than ever before, so really, there’s no need for the jealousy to set in so rapidly. But it’s there—it’s working its way through every inch of his body and finding its way into his bloodstream. They’ve never really been just Niall and Harry because it’s always been more like they’re NiallandHarry, even in the beginning when they first got put together with the other boys, it was always NiallandHarry.

You see – they have always had something. What that something is, he isn’t quite sure of anymore (not that he was ever so sure before), but he’s always placed Niall so high above everyone else. And so they fuck sometimes when they’re both gagging for it and are fed up of the flicks of their own wrists. They kiss and they may even cuddle at night after Harry’s let Niall fuck him into oblivion after a long day of interviews and flashing lights, but Niall’s always gone by twilight and that’s what they have. That’s all they’ll ever have because they’re friends and just thinking about all the different possibilities is enough to give Harry a pounding headache that no dosage of painkillers could cure. Harry’s always wanted more and he’s sure Niall knows that from the way Harry links their fingers when they’re only really meant to be going in for a high-five, and it’s even possible that he’s figured everything out by the lust that’s set deep in Harry’s eyes, but he doesn’t think about that right now because he can’t. It only leads him to sweaty palms and nerves that aren’t pre-show nerves.

*

They’re on in 5 minutes but Harry’s too caught up in his own thoughts to process the fact that he’ll be on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans expecting him to be all cutest-y with Niall. _Nope. Not going to happen_ , he mutters to no one other than himself, sure that he can stay true to his words. The entire day has been a blur, and although he should be excited and over the moon about tonight’s show, he’s just counting down the minutes until he’s able to plummet himself onto a hotel bed that may or may not have actually been made out of clouds and rainbows and possibly even marshmallows.

“You alright, mate?” He’s brought back to reality by Liam’s concerned tone. _Stop being so caring, I’m trying to be mad at you right now_. Liam always means well. When you want to be mad at him, he finds a way to put on the puppy dog eyes and pouting lip; it practically makes it impossible for you to do anything besides snuggle into him like he’s some sort of cuddly bear—which, in all honesty—he kind of is.

Harry’s quick to respond with a painfully short answer. “Mm, sure.” Okay, so he can definitely keep this up. As long as he doesn’t actually give the other two boys any of his attention like he usually would.

*

Harry sings his parts perfectly and consistently throughout the entire show despite his mind being elsewhere. He doesn’t falter; he makes sure his name is being thrown out of every girl’s mouth with his dick grabs and ridiculously awful dancing; and most importantly, he doesn’t give Liam any attention, nor does he avert his gaze to Niall more than necessary. And okay, maybe he’s been trying a little too hard to avoid Niall altogether since Liam’s Twitter antics, but he swears it’s purely coincidental if they end up being at least six feet away from each other for the duration of the night, with one of the other boy’s wedged in between the two at all times. He truly believes he could keep this up for as long as he wants. He knows he has the will power it takes, and he knows he doesn’t need Niall to be there all the time in order to be smiling from ear to ear. He has plenty of other people for that.

*

He’s back in his hotel room, sinking beneath the fluffy clouds and marshmallows he gets to call his for the night. He ignores the slight void that’s starting to make itself known beneath his ribcage—the same place where he’s buried every bit of warmth that comes from Niall’s gentle touch. It’s usually like a wood burning fire, roaring deep beneath his chest and lighting his entire body into nothing but hot, hot heat ignited from Niall’s fingers laced with his very own.

So maybe he’s already feeling the emptiness that inevitably strikes up with the lack of Niall in his presence, but so what? He’d be the last to admit it. He has Zayn and Louis and everyone else around him to fill the little cracks that are beginning to appear in his faux exterior.

His mind is still racing, though, running marathon after marathon with no red lights telling him to stop.

_But they don’t keep me warm quite like he does. They don’t leave me feeling like I’m choking on thick, black smoke because really, how am I even expected to breathe when he’s around?_

For the umpteenth time today, he’s snapped out of his constantly fleeting thoughts by the light tapping of someone on the other side of the door. He’s not sure who it could be. Maybe a small group of cute, eager, and very legal fans—who, to be fair—would probably get his undivided attention for just one night if he wasn’t already so head over heels for his best friend. Or it could always be one of the other boys, wanting to ruin his wallowing-in-self-pity mood with video games and greasy pizza until they’re reduced to sleepy, slumped versions of themselves.

“Who is it?” He calls out after a long time deliberating in his own head.

“It’s uh–look Harry, it’s me. Open up, ye idiot.” He sounds tired and maybe a little bit tipsy but it’s easy to tell he’s stone cold sober when he’s opening the door and Niall is standing there perfectly composed, his blue eyes glued to Harry’s green.

“You gonna let me in or what?” Niall lets out a small laugh, causing a slight pang to settle in Harry’s already swarming stomach before he pats Harry’s shoulder and slides past him, heading towards the sea of blankets draped over the king size bed. He looks good, he thinks. His hair is no longer elaborately coiffed in a way that gives Niall a little more height, but instead his fringe is pressed against his forehead and there are little clumps of slightly waved hair sticking up in a messy but equally adorable fashion on his head. He looks warm and inviting the way he’s made himself look so at _home_ while splayed out on the bed as if he’s patiently waiting for Harry to join him.

And that’s when Harry starts to crumble because God—he looks like every synonym for beautiful with the way his eyes appear to be dipped in the milky moonlight, and the way the corners of his mouth stretch out to make his lips resemble a rusted crescent moon drenched in sparkling gold, and maybe, _just maybe_ , the way his cheeks start to stain with the colour of Mars because he’s noticed Harry’s lingering eyes scan his face (and possibly the rest of his body) all too much.

“What are you doing here?” They’re the only words he can form right now while the untouched piece of heaven lies there, apparently unaffected by the sudden swarm of heat that’s entered the room with him.

“Just wanted t’ see ye. Almost seemed like ye were avoidin’ me all day. Crazy, huh?” Niall replies, with a hint of sarcasm laced around the latter of the words.

He searches Harry’s face for some sort of answer but he’s standing there, mouth sewn shut with an almost empty expression he couldn’t possibly decipher. Harry could continue his stubborn little act – he knows he quite easily could, but the words start to pour out of his mouth like they’ve been eagerly waiting on the tip of his tongue for this moment.

“It’s just-you see, I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much. The tweets and the constant affection and yeah he’s, well he’s Liam, but that somehow doesn’t stop the jealousy that’s building up in the pit of my stomach, Niall, and fuck–“ He’s already said enough – he knows that much, so he mentally sews his mouth shut before he says anything else that may leave him feeling even more vulnerable and petty than he feels now.

He looks up to the blonde for some sort of response but he’s already managed to climb off the bed before Harry’s able to notice the way he’s slowly creeping towards him, teeth dug into his bottom lip, with the look in his eyes that Harry’s only used to seeing when Niall’s turned on. Harry can barely catch his own breath before Niall has him pressed up against the wall; his entire body restricted with the way Niall’s is suddenly forced against his own. Niall’s breath is hot against his neck and he can feel the goose bumps prickling as the other boy whispers into his ear (or maybe his neck but he’s not quite sure).

“Ye jealous, huh? Want me all t’ yerself, do ye?” Harry splutters out a _yes_ before he can even stop himself. He does—he truly does want him all to himself, in more ways than one but he’s not sure if Niall’s ever willing to give him everything he wants.

Niall pins the other boy’s wrists to his side while biting down on a spot behind Harry’s ear and _yes_ , this is the spot that leaves him feeling like an ice cream splayed out on the sidewalk, melting, and Niall knows this because he’s already sealing the red, slightly sensitive patch of skin with wet strips from his hot tongue. Harry can’t contain the slight moan that descents from his already gaping mouth. He always becomes a less than dignified version of himself whenever Niall treats his body like it’s the canvas for all his lust and sexual frustration.

Niall’s looking back up at the younger boy, eyes rimmed with a darkness that makes Harry grow harder by the second. “I think I might like ye even more when ye get jealous. Makes me want t’ fuck you so good.” Niall’s already slurring his words and _oh god_ , Harry can’t take it as Niall starts placing harsh kisses on his chest, and he’s sure the older boy can taste the salt on his tongue from the sweat dampening Harry’s entire body. If he can, it doesn’t do anything to discourage the boy if the heat and stiffness in his tight pants is anything to go by.

Harry’s breathing starts to hitch as Niall’s nails dig into his wrists, which are otherwise still pinned to his sides. He’s itching to be let free so his fingers can find their way through Niall’s messy hair. He needs something—anything—to hold onto while Niall continues to make his way down Harry’s long torso with his now salty tongue. Seconds later, it’s as if Niall reads his mind, releasing his wrists and letting his hand snake down to cup Harry’s hard cock through his sweatpants while the other boy finds his fingers pulling tufts of the blonde’s hair.

“Yer nice and hard for me already, aren’t ye?” Niall smiles against his mouth wickedly, causing the younger boy’s cock to twitch under his touch.

 _This is bad_ , Harry thinks.

He knows he should stop this; he knows it will end with him moping around and incessantly thinking about his feelings towards Niall, but then he’s pulling down Harry’s sweatpants and his mind turns a little foggy because _fuck_ , now his cock’s doing all the thinking. He silently curses himself for not wearing boxers under his sweatpants, while Niall not so silently let’s out a smug laugh and smirks before raising an eyebrow at a now blushing Harry. He nips at his jaw, appreciating the slight stubble the younger boy has gathered from forgetting to shave while on tour, before he sinks down onto his knees and bites his lip a little harshly.

“You’re beautiful,” Niall says, but Harry’s not too sure whether he’s addressing him or his cock, but either way, he’s happy to hear the words coming out of Niall’s mouth because they’re sincere and they’re meant only for him.

Harry’s wandering thoughts are soon cut short by Niall’s calloused fingers dancing over his length, one hand curling around the base and squeezing. He attempts to bite on his lip so as not to whimper all too soon, but Niall is having none of it. His other hand finds its way to his leg, brushing the inside of Harry’s left thigh and it’s all very distracting for the younger boy as he tugs onto Niall’s hair furiously.

Niall lets out a little giggle, which Harry thinks is all too inappropriately innocent and _maybe a little hot_ if his melting bones are anything to go by. Niall diverts his attention back to Harry’s cock, before wrapping his slightly chapped lips around the tip of his erection, allowing his tongue to flick over the slit. Harry grunts, watching as the boy beneath him takes more and more of him into his wet mouth.

He’s so clearly used to this by now and Harry loves how hot and wet Niall feels around him. It’s something he fears he’ll miss when all of this comes crashing down as soon as Niall finds a pretty girl to give all of his attention to. He has no time to let his thoughts ruin the moment, though, because Niall’s taking in more of him, sucking hard and forcing the shaking boy to let out the most sinful moan. Niall takes it as a compliment as he removes his hand from the base and swallows Harry down completely.

“Shit,” he hisses, taking a tighter grip of the boy’s hair and tugging dangerously. He can feel the fire burning—flickering at the very pit of his stomach, as his entire body feels sensitive to each touch and movement. He feels his cock hit the back of Niall’s throat and the blonde chokes a little, but Harry secretly enjoys the feeling of him choking around him because it’s both oddly endearing and hot at the same time, _and it feels fucking amazing too._ (His ego doesn’t mind it either but he suppresses that thought before he’s left with that typical cocky look on his face.)

Harry tries to remember to breathe as he watches him through his matted hair. His head is moving steadily, taking him deeper, pulling back, then deeper again and Harry just watches in amazement; his eyes are closed; long fluttering lashes against rose pink cheeks. His lips are stretched around Harry’s cock, shiny with his own spit and he can’t take it anymore.

The younger boy is close—so fucking close—but he needs this to last because it may never happen again, at least not with the boy kneeling down in front of him. He grabs the back of Niall’s head with both hands and works on keeping his legs straightened out before he ends up caving in and falling to his knees. He tries to move his hips to the same rhythm as the blonde kneeling in front of him and fuck—fucking his mouth never felt this good, he thinks.

Niall hums contently around him and Harry leans his head back as he let’s out a few throaty moans. “ _God yes_. Niall, that’s it. Fuck, that feels amazing. Keep doing that.”

Niall looks up at him all dishevelled and pretty. He appears so innocent with his big washed out eyes boring into him as he continues to let his cock slide between the boy’s now swollen lips. He’s amazed that he’s lasted this long in all honesty. Niall usually makes it so hard for him to keep up his stamina, but every so often he pulls back and looks up at him, knowing all too well that this is killing him.

Harry’s pulled back out of his thoughts when Niall’s hands move to his ass, gripping the flesh, and suddenly he’s moaning helplessly and fucking his mouth with more force than ever before. Both of them become more relentless with their movements and Niall knows that this means Harry’s close, and quite frankly, just the sounds coming from the boy’s mouth is making Niall feel like he may come without actually getting touched whatsoever.

He pushes back suddenly, his hair a mess of blonde and brown and his eyes wide and darker than usual. Harry’s cock slips out of his mouth, _and wow_ , his pink lips are perfectly swollen and slick. Niall looks divine and it makes Harry happy knowing that he enjoys giving head as much as Harry enjoys receiving it. It’s become almost routine for Harry to be taken away from his thoughts by a very eager and turned on Niall.

He grabs the base of the boy’s cock, giving it a few strokes that manage to make Harry’s eyes roll and toes curl.

“You taste so good. So fuckin’ good,” he whispers, placing wet, hungry kisses along the shaft.

He loves when Niall does this; the way he pays special attention to every inch of him, taking care of the parts most people would usually forget about. He licks up a trail before slipping his perfect mouth back over Harry’s swollen and leaking head. He knows this is it. He’s too fucking close and so is the boy stood up before him.

“Fucking hell, shit,” Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is wide open, “I’m gonna come–fuck, Ni–I’m gonna -“ He comes with so much force, holding Niall’s head still as the smaller boy swallows down while Harry continues to come and – _fucking finally_.

“Wow, shit,” he pants, finally coming to a stop with Niall swallowing down every last bit before completely pulling away from Harry’s length. He takes it so well and Harry loves him for it. He doesn’t make a fuss over it; in fact he kind of loves the whole experience. He enjoys knowing that he has Harry all over his tongue and inside his mouth. The taste melts in his mouth and it’s enough to push him over the edge, causing him to lean forward and grab tight hold of Harry’s thigh as he blissfully comes in the pants he wore on stage all night. Harry grabs the older boy’s arm, looking down at him intently with a sparkle in his eye while still trying even out his own breathing. He’d be lying if he said he knew that was actually possible.

“You-I didn’t even touch you and you-I thought people were bullshitting when they said that can happen.” He’s laughing out of sheer surprise at the boy in front of him. He breathes out heavily and slumps down onto the floor so his eyes are level with Niall’s.

Niall’s blushing furiously and Harry closes the distance between the two of them to sprinkle light kisses on his damp forehead, both cheeks and lastly – his nose.

“Wow,” is all Niall can say because yes – wow indeed. “We’ll keep that one between us, yeah? No tellin’ the grandchildren about me comin’ without getting touched.” Harry’s heart clenches at Niall’s words. _The grandchildren_. Ha yeah, he’s sure that would turn into one interesting, yet very hypothetical conversation.

Harry gets up to and pulls his sweatpants up with him. He heads over to the bed, leaving Niall sitting on the floor on the other side of the room. He immediately regrets the space put between himself and Niall; it quickly feels like a vast ocean has inserted itself into the equation and Harry is simply drowning without the other boy to hold onto like he’s his life raft. He really needs Niall to hold onto him right now because although he isn’t drowning anymore, he feels stranded, like he’s still caught beneath salty waves without any land to dig into elbows first.

His eyes start to cloud with what he understands to be tears, and fuck; this is exactly what he didn’t want to happen right now. Only _he_ would start crying after receiving possibly the best blowjob of his entire life.

He wants to rewind to three minutes ago when all that mattered was the heat radiating from his skin as Niall made him feel nice and floaty, but he’s taken away from his venomous thoughts as Niall jumps to his feet and darts towards the other boy on the bed, eyebrows furrowed as he wraps his arms around Harry’s slim waist. The older boy keeps a firm hold of Harry’s limp body as he slowly slides them both underneath the pile of warmth where they can lie together and _just be close_ until Harry’s willing to talk.

He really should clean himself up considering he just came in his pants a mere two minutes ago, but it seems like the least important thing in the world when he has Harry draped over him, his salty tears soaking through Niall’s shirt. Niall really fucking hopes he’s willing to talk at some point because nothing makes his heart ache quite like how Harry does when he doesn’t talk to him about what’s going on inside his head. He’s always got something going on inside that head of his and Niall would be the first to say that he wishes he could read him effortlessly, without constantly having to figure out what each speck of dark green in his eyes means when he’s upset or angry.

Harry’s quick to bury his head into the older boy’s chest while Niall sprinkles light, chase kisses to his forehead until both boys are lulled into a gentle sleep for the night.

*

Harry wakes up to the rays of sunlight through the blinds; making his dreams turn to nothing but warm tones of orange and red until he wills himself to open his eyes properly.

It takes a moment for him to register the smaller body plastered to his side, an arm not belonging to him, draped over his own rather limp and sweaty body. He already regrets the little scene he made last night as he replays the entire thing in his head, going over every little touch and whimper, almost sure that he’s made a colossal mess of whatever it is they have _or don’t have_ , he worries.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, causing the sweaty and sticky body next to him to shift. Harry notices how Niall’s eyes slowly start to flutter open, his bottom and top lashes kissing furiously until they fully open as he let’s out a loud and slightly exaggerated yawn with all the arm movements to match, too.

“G’morning, sunshine.” Harry practically melts at the boy’s words, cursing himself for being so devastatingly in love with the scruffy-headed blonde. Niall’s mouth crept up into a lazy smile as he caught the shade of rose pink creep up on Harry’s cheeks. Harry willed himself to say something so as not to be left with a rather smug looking Niall.

“’M sorry about last night.” It was barely audible and definitely groggily, both from nerves and the fact that he had just woken, but it was enough for Niall to hear since he already plastered to the other boy.

“You want t’ talk about it?”

 _No—well yes—but only if you promise you’re in love with me, too_. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he mentally kicks himself because Niall’s so special and important that he probably has the ability to read Harry’s mind when he’s most vulnerable.

“Yeah. At least I think I do.”

His eyes meet with Niall’s and the boy nods, as if to let him know he’s waiting.

“I’m guessin’ you weren’t cryin’ over how good I blew you last night, right?”

He can’t help but snigger at how adorable Niall can be when he’s trying so hard to make Harry laugh. Niall’s little smirk catches him off-guard, allowing his nerves to catch up with him. He should have thought this out. That, or he should have let Niall fuck him last night to avoid the inevitable tear fest that followed after the mind-blowing blowjob. At least that way he wouldn’t have to deal with the possible rejection or heartache that’s likely to follow after he says everything he knows he shouldn’t.

He clears his throat in an attempt to rid of whatever groggily effect is left on his voice. Both boys sit up, backs up straight against the headboard of the hotel bed, and Harry guesses that this is it. Time to effectively break his very own heart, while Niall’s stays perfectly intact.

“S’just, I got jealous yesterday but you know that already. And okay, it wasn’t just yesterday. Like, it’s not a one off thing. It’s all the time, Ni, and I feel like I’m suffocating every time I see someone else make you laugh to the point where your nose scrunches up,” 

Niall’s face falls as he listens to Harry pour his heart out. He just sits there, too scared to move or say anything in response because Harry’s actually talking to him for once and he doesn’t want to screw this up with a faltered facial expression or the wrong pitch of _oh_.

“And it’s so hard to sit here and pretend like I’m okay with all of _this_ – whatever _this_ _thing_ between us is. We go on stage every night and we laugh, we dance and I swear you sometimes unknowingly look at me like I’ve just climbed a ladder up to the sky to fetch you the moon and it hurts because –”

He hesitates with the words that are playing on the tip of his tongue, not sure whether he should swallow them down and let them reside beneath his ribcage for yet another few months—no—years. Niall is still looking at him attentively, not allowing himself to falter in any way.

If tears start to prickle down Niall’s freckled face, creating a steady path on his cheek, it’s merely coincidence and nothing more.

He finds Harry’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing the younger boy’s hand so he knows to carry on with whatever he stopped himself from saying. Harry nods a little before securely attaching his eyes to Niall’s watered down blue one’s.

“Sometimes it feels like my every emotion is amplified whenever you’re around; I’ve built this special place for you, tucked into the very centre of my ribcage where everything vital is—and that’s you, Ni—you’re vital and fuck, _you’re everything_ , and yes I may need my heart and my lungs and maybe even my stupid brain, but they all begin to falter and shut down when you’re not next to me and I hate it. I don’t know how to make it stop – this constant need to be next to you; to feel you and to have you smile in my direction and no one else’s. I crave it all. I crave you. _I love you_.”

There it is. There’s the three words and eight letters he kept beneath every crevice of his body, waiting for the right time to use them. Now was not the right time, he thought. He sat there stiff, unable to look away from Niall even though he so badly wanted to crawl under the bed, tuck himself up into a neat ball and screw his eyes shut.

He had completely forgotten that they were holding hands until Niall held onto it more desperately and less hesitantly as if Harry was land and he was _safe_. He gulped down, trying to steady out his breathing. Harry looked down, not wanting to face the rejection he was sure would come at any moment now. With his free hand, Niall shakily cupped Harry’s face. Harry was now forced to do nothing but get lost in the vast ocean set deep in the wells of Niall’s eyes.

 _Great, he’s going to make me look at him while he breaks my heart. He wants to see my face fall into sudden heartbreak_ , was all Harry’s mind was allowed before the other boy spoke up.

“I–fuck Harry, _I love you_ , ye fuckin’ idiot. I don’t know what t’ say. I don’t think I can top yer fancy poet shit, but fuck, _I love you so much_ and it hurts t’ know ye feel like that sometimes.”

He’s almost sure he’s dreaming because this can’t be happening right now.

Niall loves him? _He loves him_.

He adds so much emphasis to the I love you both times he says the three words, and it makes Harry feel like he’s finally crawling back to land, elbows digging into sand and destination feeling a lot like _home_. Niall is home and honestly, home never felt so inviting and warm.

He thinks back to the cold winter evening’s where he’d trudge through the front door after school and feel the warmth of the roaring fire his mum always lit because she knew her son would be coming home shivering with cherry red stained cheeks. Right now feels a lot like those harsh winter evening’s. He’s home and the spurts of heat are shooting up his legs and his arms, and his cheeks are sprinkled with a furiously hot pink that only Niall can leave plastered on his face.

With his thoughts still bubbling inside his head, Harry launches forward, attaching his lips to Niall’s. The older boy is demanding and aggressive, coaxing Harry’s mouth open with hunger and want. A jolt of electricity runs up and down both boys’ spines.

There’s something new there, though – a _need_ for this, a _need_ for the taste of Harry’s lips against his own. It’s something he’s only ever experienced when he’s slightly intoxicated and unable to think properly, but now he’s sober and yes, his thoughts are all over the place but not where his feelings for Harry are concerned, and the need is still there.

He needs this. _He needs him_.

*

If the two of them remain there, cuddling in a swarm of fluffy clouds just a little longer than they really should considering they have a perfume to launch, they don’t care because it all feels very new and warm – maybe a little scary, but the nerves are easily overshadowed by the ecstasy that’s taken over both of them.

Niall speaks up, breaking the comfortable silence that crept over them after a while. “So I guess I got the real Mrs. Horan lyin’ next to me, huh?”

“Y’know I’m the biggest Niall girl there is.”

Niall laughs rather obnoxiously at Harry’s response, but Harry likes it. He’s making him laugh and smile, and right now, that’s all he needs to know he’s _warm_ and very much _home_ while in the other boy’s arms.


End file.
